


hold me tight (or don't)

by unconventional_therapy



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Post 3x01, Resolved Sexual Tension, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22304929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unconventional_therapy/pseuds/unconventional_therapy
Summary: Mr. Robot makes a late night visit to work on Stage 2 with Tyrell in the basement of The Red Wheelbarrow, but things don't go as planned. Milkshakes, torrenting, and confessions ensue.[Post 3X01]
Relationships: Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick, Mr. Robot/Tyrell Wellick
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	hold me tight (or don't)

**Author's Note:**

> This is set post 3X01ish AKA around the time Robot was working with Tyrell and Angela in the RWB basement. Also sorry if I'm spamming the tag. I had a few half completed one-shots saved and I figured I would finish them up and publish them since all of us are starved for content lol

Robot smelt the smokey aroma of The Red Wheelbarrow waft past his nose as he opened the glass door to the restaurant. The room was fairly quiet, a young couple sat by the front window sharing some fries while a few single people sat smattered at other tables.

Robot walked up to the counter to order. 

“Hi, what can I get you today?” 

“I’ll take your largest chocolate milkshake - extra whip.” He winked.

“Alright,” she typed his order into the cash register before looking up, giving him an overly bright, customer service smile, “Will that be all for you today, sir?”

“I think so.”

“That’ll be $12.95.” she said.

Robot reached into his pocket and pulled out Elliot’s wallet. Completely empty - no cash or credit card. Christ, how did a man nearly in his thirties walk around without a dollar to his name? He checked his pockets, a couple receipts and _bingo_. By sheer luck, Elliot had been carrying around a folded up Red Wheelbarrow punchcard and he was miraculously due for his free milkshake. 

He flipped the card over, in complete disbelief that Elliot had actually managed to consume 10 milkshakes. And then he spotted it, on the back in permanent marker: 

_**Looks like you need it more than I do - Irving** _

So this was Irving’s? Huh. Weird. Robot flashed her the punchcard with a smile before sliding it across the counter.

“Oh, you lucky dog. Looks like you’ll be getting a free milkshake!”

“Lucky me,” Robot glaced around the room, thankfully no one seemed to be paying him any attention. 

Once he got his milkshake, he quietly snuck in the back to get to the door that lead to the basement. He had to admit, while he appreciated the Dark Army’s apparent penchant for BBQ, he imaged the constant scent of smoke and grease would get nauseating after a while. Tyrell was probably having a field day.

When he got to the basement, Tyrell was sitting at the table in front of the computer, his hands were clasped at the back of his neck. He looked tense - well, tenser than usual.

Robot cast a appreciative look around the room, announcing his presence with a grand gesture, “I gotta say, I like what you’ve done with the place!”

Tyrell turned around.

“I see you’ve, uh, made your bed this time.” Robot nodded at the forlorn mattress and blanket in the corner.

Tyrell shut his eyes, trying to contain his irritation.

Looked like humor wasn’t cutting it tonight.

“You have no idea. The amount of stress I’m put under everyday... The Dark Army refuses to let me see my wife or son and I’m being held at gunpoint to accomplish _our_ mission and you think this is some kind of joke?” Tyrell bit out.

It seemed like they were already off to a rough start.

Robot considered his options; he could work with Tyrell like he originally planned or he could take the night off and just be nice to the guy. Tyrell looked on edge and Robot felt bad for him. He wouldn’t want to be in his position either.

Robot sighed, “Believe it or not I wasn’t coming down here to piss you off.”

Tyrell looked at him with skepticism.

“See I, uh, even got you a milkshake,” he reluctantly waved his cup in surrender, “It’s got extra whip cream?”

Tyrell hesitated before getting up and stealing the milkshake, plopping at the edge of his bed sulkingly. He set the milkshake down and hunched forward, burying his hands in his hair, before rubbing them down his face. Robot could sense an oncoming meltdown. He sat down next to him and put his hand on Tyrell’s back, trying his best to be supportive.

Tyrell’s face crumpled at the contact, eyes clenching back frustrated tears. Robot sighed, this was exactly why you shouldn’t lock a guy up in a basement for weeks on end.

“Come on. Bring it in.” Robot said resigned, lifting an arm up and pulling him into an awkward side hug.

Tyrell wrapped his arms around Robot and buried his head on his shoulder. He was oddly quiet. Robot could see the occasional hiccup of his back, but other than that Tyrell just sort of held onto him. Robot tried rubbing what he hoped were soothing circles on his back. Truthfully, he’d never done this with another person - a _real_ person - besides Elliot. It felt strange, but also nice in a way. Tyrell seemed to appreciate it regardless - his shoulders visibly relaxing under Robot’s hands. 

Robot eventually pulled away, Tyrell reluctantly lifting his head from his shoulder. When Robot got a look at him his face was damp and blotchy from crying, and his eyes were rimmed in red. He looked genuinely miserable and Robot had the inexplicable urge to cheer him up. 

“Hey, what do you say we watch something. Clear your head a bit.” Robot suggested lightly.

Tyrell eyed him warily.

Robot walked over to the computer, logging on, “You got anything in mind..?” He looked over his shoulder at Tyrell.

“No, not really,” Tyrell sniffled.

Robot rolled his eyes, prompting him, “Okay, what’s your favorite movie?”

“I don’t have one.” 

“Come on, everyone’s got a favorite movie. What is it, like, Titanic or something?” Robot said half-jokingly.

Tyrell clenched his jaw.

Holy shit. Robot raised his eyebrows, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Fine. If that’s what it was going to take to cheer Tyrell up, he’d do it. 

“Drag the bed over,” he nodded at Tyrell’s mattress, already finding a website to torrent Titanic.

Tyrell sat dejectedly on the bed as Robot came over to sit by him. Their viewpoint of the relatively small computer screen from the ground was abysmal.

“So.. Titanic, huh?” Robot said quirking an eyebrow.

“No one‘s making you to watch it.”

Robot snorted, “What do you think the Dark Army’s gonna think when they see you torrenting this shit?”

“Well, I can’t imagine they’ll be anything _but_ pleased to know that we’re using their networks to commit piracy. And piracy of a James Cameron film, nevertheless.” Tyrell said dryly.

Robot grinned at him, “See there we go, that’s the kind of good humor I like to hear!”

Robot gave him a friendly pat on the knee before getting up to get his - or rather _Tyrell’s_ he supposes - milkshake.

“Mind if I have some?”

“Actually, I do.” Tyrell grabbed it out of his hands petulantly, taking it for himself. He paused, as though he wasn’t sure what to do with the drink now that he had it, before bringing the cup awkwardly to his face and licking some of the whipped cream off the top with his tongue like an ice cream cone.

Robot’s lips quirked upwards - it was oddly endearing watching Tyrell act so ordinary. Robots suddenly glad he forgot to pick up one of those little plastic spoons before he came down. He turned back to the screen - maybe tonight wasn’t a complete lost cause.

It wasn’t long until he was eyeing the milkshake again, though - Elliot rarely ate enough and he was hungry, and _dammit_ he actually wanted that extra whip cream. He leaned over and took a conspiratorial swipe at the milkshake, bringing his finger into his mouth - _fucking delicious_ , Elliot didn’t know what he was missing.

He pulled away, meeting Tyrell’s eyes. He was watching him intensely - Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” Tyrell looked guilty.

Robot cleared his throat, turning back to the movie in an effort to cut the tension. He could feel Tyrell’s eyes flickering back to him though and it was making him hypersensitive - suddenly all too aware of how close he was sitting to Tyrell, how their knees were touching. Luckily, Rose came on screen declaring her intent to jump off the railing of the ship and Tyrell looked away, finishing off the drink with a final tip back.

When Robot glanced back at him some time later he saw that he was sporting a hint of a dried chocolate milk mustache.

He snorted, raising his eyebrows, “You gotta little something, something,” Robot gestured at his own lips.

Tyrell licked his lips and then wiped his mouth with the side of his hand before looking back to Robot for clearance.

“No, it’s still..” Robot licked his thumb, “here let me,” he motioned Tyrell forward and cupped his chin, wiping across Tyrell’s upper lip. He noticed the wetness from where Tyrell had licked them before and his mind short circuited, lingering on his mouth a moment too long.

“There, got it” he pulled his hand away. Tyrell’s expression unreadable in the darkened room. 

Robot wasn’t one to feel jittery, especially when it came to flirting - not that he _was_ flirting mind you. He didn’t know why he felt this way all of a sudden with Tyrell. He had to find a way to lighten to the mood, shake off whatever had gotten into him tonight.

“You know I took my first girlfriend to see a rerun of this movie in the theaters,” Robot admitted.

“I never pictured you as the romantic type.” Tyrell said.

Robot snorted to himself, thinking back to Elliot’s date, “Well, it wasn’t very romantic. I ended up popping a boner when I saw Kate Winslet take off her robe. You know what it’s like to be the guy that got hard to 'draw me like one of your French girls'?”

Tyrell smiled at him, amused, “Why? It’s a sensual scene. There’s nothing wrong with finding that attractive.”

Robot raised his eyebrows at him, “You still think that scenes hot, don’t you?”

Tyrell didn’t answer. 

Robot emboldened, lied back on the bed and teased him, “Come on. Draw me like one of your French girls, Tyrell,” He waggled his eyebrows at him suggestively.

Tyrell looked over at him amused, but it slowly shifted to something else. 

“I would, but you still have your clothes on.”

Robot felt himself tense up. 

He looked up at Tyrell with half lidded eyes from where he was lying, splayed on the bed.

“How about you help me out of them then,” Robot shot back without second thought.

Tyrell froze, unsure if Robot was just messing with him or if he was serious. And honestly, Robot didn’t know at this point either.

“Are you... coming onto me?” Tyrell asked slowly, confused but definitely not disinterested.

Robot paused and considered what he said, incredulous at his own words, ”What? No, of course not,” he sat up quickly, “Shit, can’t a guy make a joke around here.” he said hastily, forcing out a laugh - a quiet panic spread throughout him - a flashing red sign warning him to stop while he was ahead.

Tyrell gave him a curious look, eyes studying him, “You’re acting very strangely tonight.”

“First of all, fuck you. I’m was just trying to be nice, you’re the one reading way too much into it.” Robot snapped at him, willing his heart to stop racing.

Tyrell looked like he was going to say something else, but Robot interrupted him, thrown off from his sudden internal crisis, “You know, this little kumbaya has been fun and all, but it’s getting pretty late. I should probably be heading out.” He gave Tyrell a terse smile before slapping his legs and getting up, making an abrupt exit for the stairs. 

He felt guilty for leaving - they hadn’t even made it halfway through the movie - but he was in a weird mood tonight. Best to stay away from anything or anyone that would tempt him to do something stupid and unfortunately for Tyrell, he was apparently #1 on that list.

Tyrell got up and followed him, “Wait, wait, wait,” he grabbed Robot’s arm, stopping him, “Where are you going?”

Robot turned around, irritated, “It’s almost 1 AM. Where the hell do you think?”

Tyrell looked momentarily taken aback before his lips curled, “You know for once I thought you were being a decent person. Turns out it was just another one of your little games, wasn’t it,” Tyrell scoffed, “You probably think it’s funny fucking with me, don’t you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Tyrell scowled at him, “You know about my feelings for you. You know that I was in love with you.” He grit out, adding an extra emphasis on was, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself that his feelings were in the past than anyone else.

Robot swallowed thickly, he felt like an asshole, but he wasn’t in the mood to unpack his own muddled feelings right now, “Look, I don’t know what you think I had in mind for tonight, but this,” he waved his hands between the two of them, getting in Tyrell’s face, “this is never happening so you might as well move the _fuck_ on.”

Tyrell looked at him, any trace of sorrow had morphed into full blown anger, “I can’t believe I ever wanted to be with you. I once thought you to be a God, but in reality you’re just a coward.” 

Robot felt his fingers curl into a fist and he pushed past Tyrell, continuing for the stairs.

Tyrell chased after him again, grabbing his arm, spinning him around and _fuck it_ -

Robot slammed him against the wall - kissing him wet and open mouthed. It was rough and he could feel Tyrell’s fingers reach up to dig desperately into the back of his neck - feverishly returning the kiss. This was insane, he had no idea what he was doing. Robot broke away, panting hard against Tyrell’s neck. 

“Is this what you want from me, huh? Want me to fuck you?”

Tyrell laughed humorlessly, “Admit it, you want this just as much as I do.” 

Robot felt exposed, “You know what I want?” his breathing coming out in short ragged breaths as he pressed his mouth to Tyrell’s ear, “I want you to get on your knees and _blow me_.”

He can actually feel Tyrell’s heart rate speed up from where he’s pressed against his chest and Tyrell dropped to his knees obediently - clumsily unbuttoning Robot’s jeans and pulling down the zipper.

He looked up at Robot earnestly before taking him into his mouth. It was hot and wet and somehow all too much and not enough. Tyrell fumbled with getting his own dick out while Robot reached out for something to grab onto. He found nothing so he settled with pressed one hand up against the cement and the other weaved through Tyrell’s hair. Tyrell was blowing him him and stroking himself at the same time. It was sloppy and desperate -

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Tyrell - “

Tyrell downright moaned at his words.

Robot rolled his hips forward, his dick sliding deeper into Tyrell’s mouth. Tyrell held out for a bit before he gagged, grabbing Robot’s hips and forcing him to stop moving. Robot let out a frustrated groan - he wanted, no _needed_ to move. Tyrell rubbed soothing circles into his hips as an apology, eyes locking on Robots as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked.

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” Robot rasped out, knuckles going white from where he was pressing his hand into the wall.

Tyrell’s eyes dilated at Robot’s words and he reached down and stroked himself - slow and teasingly - God, he was getting off on blowing him. Robot exhaled sharply and pinched his eyes shut.

“Oh _fuck_ \- I’m gonna - ,” he warned Tyrell and Tyrell took him out of his mouth with an wet pop, continuing to stroke him. He licked his swollen lips before looking up at Robot. Robot came across his face. 

Robot fell against the wall panting. Tyrell was still kneeling at his feet stroking himself.

Robot remembered how Tyrell had looked at him earlier with the milkshake - granted this was a completely different situation and he might get punched in the dick for it - but fuck it. He wiped some of his come off of Tyrell’s cheek and shoved his fingers into his mouth.

“Swallow,” he said in a low and steady voice.

Tyrell’s eyes darkened and he obeyed - tongue curling around his digits as he sucked around them. Robot let out a shaky exhale and - yeah, Tyrell was into it. He tried pulling his fingers out - but Tyrell bit down gently, forcing him to slow down, teasing him with the lightest pressure of teeth. 

The fucker _knew_ what he was doing to him.

Robot lips parted, his tongue darting out to wet his upper lip, “Come on, get up.”

In a seemingly trance like state, Tyrell stood and Robot pressed him against the wall, kissing him deeply, his tongue sliding against Tyrell’s languidly. He could taste his own come in Tyrell’s mouth and it should’ve been disgusting and it kind of was, but it was also weirdly hot.

He reached down and replaced Tyrell’s hand with his own, stroking him in a firm rhythmic twisting motion.

Tyrell moaned into his mouth, only pulling back slightly to let out a strangled, “Thank you, Elliot,” against his cheek, hands sliding up to caress the nape of his neck.

Robot resisted the urge to tell him that he didn’t need to be thanked - that this was a mutually beneficial thing - but he figured that conversation would have to wait.

“Oh _god_ \- “ Tyrell was close, “Please, Elliot, _please_ I - “

Robot worked his mouth to the edge of Tyrell’s jaw, teasing the skin between his teeth as he quickened his strokes. Tyrell thrusted into Robot’s palm and he came. 

Robot peeled himself off Tyrell, collapsing against the wall and sliding to the floor. Tyrell followed suit. 

They sat slumped against the wall in a mutual silence - the sound of their heavy breathing emanating through the room. The temporary endorphin induced afterglow was nice, but it quickly wore off and reality set in.

Robot just got a goddamn blowjob from Tyrell Wellick of all people _in the basement of a fast food restaurant._

Robot risked a glance at Tyrell, still catching his breath. His eyes were closed and he looked exhausted.

“You okay?” Robot asked. Tyrell looked tired but also.. sad. Not the typical reaction Robot hoped to get out of the people he slept with.

“I’m fine, Elliot. You can leave now.” Tyrell said coldly, his eyes had opened, but were downcast, staring resolutely at the floor.

Ah shit. He grimaced.

Robot deflected with a sad attempt at humor, “Not big on cuddling, huh? Always thought you’d secretly be into pillowtalk.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Tyrell said looking at him in disbelief.

Robot felt a flash of irritation bubble in his chest. 

“What exactly am I supposed to get? _I’m_ trying - you’re the one that’s acting like I just ran over your brand new, overpriced Pomeranian instead of giving you a handjob.”

Tyrell grit his teeth.

Robot continued, “You know, maybe if you’d just lightened the fuck up for once - “

“You have no idea - “

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea - “

“I’m still fucking in love with you, Elliot!” Tyrell shouted, bitter tears welling in his eyes, “And you keep using me for your own selfish purposes. Tell me, did you ever even care about me?”

Robot stiffened before reaching his hand out, “Tyrell, look, I’m sorry - “

Tyrell moved away from him, “I said, did you ever care about me? Answer the question.”

Robot paused, his voice quieter this time, “I do care about you.”

Tyrell looked at him, his eyes were still glassy, but his face had softened a bit.

“Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it.” Tyrell huffed.

“Come on, I gave you that milkshake earlier, didn’t I?” Robot said attempting to lighten the mood, “Believe me, if you were on my shit list you wouldn’t have seen hide nor hair of that.”

Tyrell still looked doubtful.

“Tell you what,” Robot said, getting up off the floor, “how about I stay and finish working on the Dark Army’s assignment so we don’t get our asses handed to us and you can get some shut eye in the meantime.” He hesitated before continuing, his voice softer, “I can leave when I’m done if you want me to. Deal?” He stuck his hand out.

Tyrell hesitated before taking it, Robot helping him up. 

“Sounds good, Elliot. Whatever you want to do.” Tyrell said, his face was flat.

They both suddenly took notice of Titanic still playing in the background. Robot walked over to the computer. Jack was speaking passionately to Rose on-screen:

_“...But I'm involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowin' that you're goin' to be alright.”_

Christ, enough of that. Robot exited out of the tab with a click.

Robot could see Tyrell out of his peripheral moving his mattress back to its original spot, sitting on it aimlessly. He considered going over and talking with him, but decided against it.

Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. He had work to do anyway.

________

Robot stretched, looking at the clock: 2:44 AM. Shit, it was getting pretty late, he figured he should wrap everything up so he could head back to Elliot’s apartment. He’d made decent process on the project - granted he would’ve been further along if Tyrell had helped - but it is what it is.

He powered down the computer and got up, glancing over to Tyrell who was curled up on his side, hugging his pillow in his sleep. Robot made his way over to the bedside. Tyrell’s chest was moving in a slow, steady rhythm and his face had relaxed, giving him an unusually peaceful appearance. Robot sat down next to him and absentmindedly brushed the messy hair along his forehead. He felt something akin to affection fill his chest.

You know, maybe he would stay after all.


End file.
